


Aboard the Hogwarts Express

by MagnificentAndStrange



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Year Fic, Gen, Harry is sad, Hogwarts Express, Snape's POV, no relationships - Freeform, short little one shot, snape is observant as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnificentAndStrange/pseuds/MagnificentAndStrange
Summary: Every year a professor is tasked with riding the Hogwarts Express from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, in order to keep an eye on the students, and this year it is Severus Snape's turn.





	Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a longer story but it didn't seem to be going anywhere, so I made it this ficlet. This was also written for round one of the Tri-Writing Tournament on Potions and Snitches.com and was inspired by the challenge "Everywhere Else is full" also on the P&S site, it's a small one-shot, but I hope you all enjoy! the abuse and neglect from the Dursleys is implied in here but not discussed in any detail, as it is a short fic.

August thirty-first was a bright clear day with a sharp breeze that blew the thick steam billowing from the engine of the Hogwarts Express all around Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Children darted in and out of the smoke while their parents stood still in the mist, speaking to one another or their offspring. The scene would have had a strange ghost-like quality to it were it not for the noise.

Severus Snape sneered, barely glancing up from his copy of the Daily Prophet. He couldn’t abide the squabbling and shrieking of children. If he had had a decision in the matter he would have spent the last few minutes of peace and quiet before the term began in his potions lab. But no, it was tradition that every year a professor was assigned to the Hogwarts Express in order to keep an eye on the students and Severus had been selected for this year.

He flicked to the next page of the paper, his thin face set in a stony mask, his long black hair falling across his shoulders, blending into his black robes. Only the prefects knew which train compartment he was in and things would have to be dire for them to risk disturbing their feared Potions professor. He was all in favor of high security where magical children were concerned, but Severus rather wished that Dumbledore would let this tradition go and leave it to the prefects to handle any problems that occurred on the Hogwarts Express. He hated having to mind children who should have been old enough to obey.

The noise on the train was growing louder, children shouting and racing down the train corridor with no respect for their surroundings. Although he considered it, it wasn’t worth the headache of sweeping open the door and frightening some manners into the first-years. The train blew its whistle and Severus glanced out the window, frowning at the numerous parents who were embracing their children and pushing last minute items into their hands. He always hated being at the Platform during the start of term, it brought back too many memories he’d rather forget.

A light knock on the glass door had him turning his head quickly, the floor rattling underneath him as the train began to move away from the platform. The compartment door slid open, the opaque glass parting to reveal a very small boy. He was clearly a first year but was quite a bit shorter and thinner than most of the students that Severus had seen in his years as a professor. His hair was black and particularly unruly, his almond-shaped green eyes large behind round wire-rimmed glasses. It was those eyes that made Severus inhale sharply, gaze flickering quickly to the jagged scar half-hidden under the boy’s untidy fringe. They stared at one another for a moment before the child spoke softly,

“I’m sorry sir, but could I sit here? Most of the other compartments are already full.”

Severus’ grip on the newspaper tightened marginally but he gave no other indicator of what it cost him to see this boy – a product of a marriage between a man he had hated and a woman he had loved.

“You do not wish to sit with the other students?” he finally spoke, his voice sharp with contempt for the boy, the noisy children on the train, and the entire situation he found himself in now.

The boy chewed on his lower lip, darting a quick glance behind him, his brow furrowing, “I don’t really get on with others,” he muttered, scuffing a extremely battered shoe against the compartment’s floor.

Perhaps it was the green eyes, or perhaps it was seeing the Boy who Lived before him, tiny and wearing clothing far too huge and ragged to be bought with the child in mind, that made Severus jerk his head in a rough nod. The boy stepped forward hesitantly, sliding the compartment door shut carefully so as not to rattle the glass.

Severus watched him closely as the boy climbed up on the compartment seat across from him, having to hoist himself up slightly, he was so little. He brushed his dark mop of hair out of his eyes and Severus frowned at the suddenly visible marks along the edge of the boy’s right cheekbone. They were fading into a dull yellow but there was no mistaking the bruises for anything else. The child looked up at him, his green eyes watchful and rather sad,

“My name is Harry,” the boy said suddenly, “Harry Potter.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, his own expression cold as he looked down his hooked nose at the eleven-year-old, “I know.” He snapped in response inwardly surprised that the boy had not been bragging when introducing himself nor was he perturbed by Severus’ less than friendly behavior. If anything, the child seemed rather tired, his eyelids heavy as if he were struggling to keep them open.

“Do you fight with other children?” Severus demanded abruptly, folding up his newspaper and setting it aside, covertly tracking the expression on the boy’s face. Potter appeared confused and wary and Severus’ eyes flickered again to the bruises.

“Oh,” the boy said, suddenly looking down at the floor, his bony fingers twisting the hem of his ridiculously oversized shirt, “yes, I suppose.”

It was not a satisfactory answer and Severus could not hear any element of pride or brutality in the boy’s voice, only that strange solemnity that made him feel as if he were speaking to someone much older. And yet, the boy was so young, his face turning toward the window, taking in the sight of the scenery now passing with a silent sort of intensity, as if trying to remember every detail before him.

They did not speak to one another and very soon Potter lapsed into sleep, his breathing slowing, his knees pulled up to his chest, his head against the train window. Severus regarded the boy with narrowed eyes. Asleep, Potter looked even smaller if that were possible. His thin face was still, his glasses slipped down slightly on the straight bridge of his nose which Severus noted was much more like Lily’s than James’s. He grimaced, looking away.

There was something strange about the child, something that reminded Severus far too much of himself at the same age. Certainly, the very sight of the Slytherin Head of House would have scared off most children yet Potter had not seemed to be afraid, not of him at any rate. It was almost as if the boy were looking for someone that was harsh and forbidding to sit with, someone who would not fawn over the boy or try to needle him the way that children would.

The train crossed over an old bridge, jolting slightly as it did so. The motion was nearly soundless but Potter tensed, waking into instant alertness. Those wide green eyes scanned the compartment, an almost feral fear crossing his features before it faded and merged into that sadness that seemed a permanent part of his features. Even the boy’s smile was tinged with sorrow as he offered Severus a small half-smile, sitting up more fully from where he’d leaned against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said quietly and Severus looked away, not bothering to respond.

They sat in silence, Potter toying with the hem of his huge shirt again. Really, did those muggles he lived with not know how to provide him proper clothing? Even if the boy was miniscule for his age, it should not have been difficult to find something more decent for him to wear.

The door of their compartment suddenly jarred open, a middle-aged witch sticking her head in, “Anything off the trolley, Professor?” she asked, and Severus shook his head irritably. She turned to leave before seeming to notice Potter who had leaned back against the wall the moment the door had opened, his pale face wary once more.

“What about you, dear?” the witch asked, her voice changing to a tone that was uncomfortably motherly.

Potter had not moved, but Severus saw the child’s muscles tighten even as the boy refused politely. The witch beamed at his good manners, not seeming to realize that her presence was obviously bothering Potter who Severus suspected would have actively moved away if the boy wasn’t already tucked into the corner of the compartment seat.

“What a nice boy you have, Professor!” she enthused and a flash of incredulous anger went through Severus,

“He’s a first year!” he hissed, outraged that she would think James Potter’s son could ever be his own.

Potter’s expression was one of confused shock and his eyes tracked each movement of the two adults as if preparing himself for some sort of trial.

“Oh I am sorry,” the witch fluttered, moving back to her trolley with a hardly apologetic smile, “I just assumed with how small he was that he was younger, and what with the resemblance and all…” she cheerily closed the compartment door leaving behind a uncomfortable silence.

“I’m not that small,” Potter finally said after a few minutes, his chin lifted in defiance that Severus would’ve hated if he were not still trying to comprehend the conversation that had just happened. He looked sharply at Potter who was assessing him just as watchfully.

“I don’t think we look like one another,” Potter stated, though there was a note of something there that bizarrely sounded almost like hope.

“Of course we don’t,” Severus replied cuttingly, drawing his black cloak tighter to himself, trying to ignore those green eyes that regarded him unblinkingly.

“Yes,” the boy agreed shyly, sadness washing over his face once more.

It was so incongruous to how Severus thought James Potter’s son would act that he looked hard at the child, aware once more of the faded bruises on the boy’s face and the extreme thinness of his body. Had it really been a fight the boy had gotten into? Had it been something else? Severus’ stomach tightened as he remembered his first train ride to Hogwarts and how quickly he had changed into school robes to conceal his horrible muggle clothing and the injuries his father had dealt him.

And now here was Harry Potter, wearing tattered oversized clothing and appearing so incredibly small and thin and exhausted looking that the hatred that Severus had thought he would feel was being overtaken by something else. He did not know if it was pity or sympathy but he knew there would be no going back.

Potter clearly needed to be looked after properly, he needed clothing, food, and the peace of waking up without being afraid. Could Severus provide that? He wasn’t sure. He disliked children quite strongly but than Potter didn’t seem too fond of them either, and the boy was very well behaved for a child. Regardless, he would do what he could to make sure Potter had a far better childhood than his own had been. He owed it to the boy.


End file.
